


Just the Thought of You

by AH30



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fantasizing, Imagination, Just Catra thinking about Adora while she gets off, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AH30/pseuds/AH30
Summary: You hate what even the mere mention of Adora’s name does to you, how it makes every nerve ending in your body tingle with electricity, how you tense the muscles in your thighs to quell the need erupting between them. It’s a reflex, an impulse that you have no control over. You could tell your body thousands of times, over and over, to remain still, placid, but the hand slowly raising up and brushing across your leg would never once obey.--Catra has some alone time, and she can't help but think about Adora
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Just the Thought of You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really write spicy stuff, but uh... here you go, I guess

_Useless. All of them, useless._

You slam the door to your bedroom behind you and fall onto the firm mattress, your hands still clenched in anger.

‘Crush the Rebellion, Catra,’ Hordak had ordered you, ‘Destroy every last Princess, Catra.’

How the hell were you supposed to do that when the bunch of idiots under your command couldn’t even complete a simple training exercise? If they’d performed that poorly in a real battle, the Princesses would have wiped out every last one of them, and probably you, as well. Especially now they have Adora – _She-Ra_ – who was likely the only one who could genuinely take you down. Agile, powerful and so, so very pretty-

‘No!’ you whisper loudly to yourself. You hate what even the mere mention of Adora’s name does to you, how it makes every nerve ending in your body tingle with electricity, how you tense the muscles in your thighs to quell the need erupting between them. It’s a reflex, an impulse that you have no control over. You could tell your body thousands of times, over and over, to remain still, placid, but the hand slowly raising up and brushing across your leg would never once obey.

It glides over the familiar path, tracing its way up your thigh, flirtingly close to the heat between your legs. But you want to savour this feeling, this anticipation, almost teasing yourself by forcing your body to wait. Your right hand creeps upwards, the pads of your fingers feeling every dip and crest of your body that it passes over, before settling over your breast. It’s light, almost innocuous the way it’s covering it, just the faintest of contact with the sensitive nipple causing your body to tense ever so slightly.

You let out a noise that’s half exhalation and half moan, and that seems to act as permission for the other hand to spring into action. It mirrors the position of the other, but where your right hand is merely curious and innocent, this one is hungry, commanding. It’s rough, pushing against your breast and exploring without any care and it feels incredible. Your breath hitches again, and you can’t get the thought out of your head of that hand being Adora’s as she toys with you, giving you a taste of the pleasure to come.

You can wait no longer. While your left hand remains occupied with eliciting pleasure from your chest, the other dives down between your legs. There’s no apprehension now, you need to be touched. Even running gently over your clothes is enough to cause your back to arch and your mouth to gasp as you’re overwhelmed by the sensation of the lightest of touches on the most sensitive part of your body. You can already feel the slick soaking through two layers of clothing, and all it does is spur you on – enough of this teasing, this gentle touching, you need this to happen _now._

One swift movement and you’ve freed yourself from the confines of clothing, the entangled mess of your leggings and underwear now sitting around your ankles. The air in the room is by no means cold, but compared to the heat coming from the intersection of your thighs, it feels like the Northern Reach. The change in temperature tingles, but it’s far from unpleasant, and you’re far from certain the goosebumps that flashed over your legs are from the temperature. If only Adora could see you now.

_I dare you, Adora. Touch me._

You know exactly how you’d say those words in your head, but saying them out loud would be weird. The room is empty, but your imagination is not. You close your eyes, knowing the fantasy will be so much better than the reality. A single finger makes its way along your desperate entrance, standing fast against the impulse to plunge inside, to rest against the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerves that ache for your touch. You draw circles around it, and your clit responds in exactly the way you want it to – flooding your body with pleasure. Muscles tense slightly, your breathing quickens, and your mind frees itself of worry; all you can think about is how incredible the feeling is, and how it would feel to have Adora doing it.

You’ve already parted your legs a little further than you need to, because you can see it in your mind’s eye – the top of Adora’s head resting between them, a mess of blonde hair tickling against the inside of your thighs as she drinks you in. For a moment, the fingers teasing at your clit become Adora’s tongue. You know it’s not the same, but right now you don’t care – the thought of her tongue lapping against you sparks enough pleasure that it might as well be happening.

‘Adora...’ you whisper needily, the fantasy in your head turning that little bit more real as you moan out her name. Your body rocks gently as you build up a rhythm, shock after shock of electricity deluging every nerve. How something so tiny can spread this feeling to every inch of you astounds you, but it’s building the pleasure with every millisecond, the tension rising each time a fingertip passes over it.

But you can only build up so much pleasure until you have to release that pressure, and you’ve plunged two fingers inside of you before you even realise that you need it. Even the first fraction of a second is brimming with relief, telling you that it’s exactly what you need. You start slow, those fingers slipping easily in and out, accompanied by a moan of relief from your mouth with every thrust. With your eyes still closed, it’s so very easy to fool yourself that Adora’s there, her perfect digits being the ones fucking you with increasing pace.

You find the rhythm that works, pumping your fingers with a pace that at once relieves and builds the pressure between your legs. In your mind, Adora is laid on top of you now, linking her gaze into yours as you can see the determination to bring you to orgasm deep in those baby blue eyes. You can almost feel the weight of her body on yours, sweaty skin on sweaty skin, the rhythm of her movements making your two bodies sway as one.

This is it now, you can feel the barrier being torn down, freeing you towards the final release. You quicken your fingers, daring to delve a little deeper every time they crash into your burning pussy. The dam breaks, but you tense up every part of your body to hold off that tiny bit longer, almost pressing yourself into the mattress to let go at the height of the pressure. You imagine Adora’s face inches from yours, her head falling back with her mouth open as she reaches her orgasm, and that’s all you need to release your own.

A yowl escapes your mouth uncontrollably as you come, your body jerking from the top of your head to the end of your toes with the fire of your climax. Your hand doesn’t let up, chaotically pawing at anything it can that will send another wave of rapture to drown you in pleasure. You moan again, and it’s Adora’s name that comes out of your convulsing body, the fantasy of her sustaining your orgasm that little bit longer, as though prolonging the moment you will have to once again face harsh reality.

Your breathing is still heavy and rapid, but your body finally seems to have come to the end of its bliss. Though your eyes open to the bare ceiling of your silent bedroom, the warmth of your fantasy and the afterglow of your rapture plaster a grin across your face. Your hand, now laying idle on your thigh, wears your slick like an achievement. You run it across your entrance again on its way to your mouth and your body jerks once more with a faint remnant of climax. Licking each finger in turn, then lapping at your palm, you taste yourself, the sweetness of your own juices like an additional reward. You can’t help but wonder if Adora would taste the same.

Finally sated, you let yourself fall back onto the mattress, your exposed body still tingly faintly. You pray that one day you might turn the fantasy to reality; for now, though, your imagination will have to be enough.


End file.
